


Carried Home To You

by MichellesPenScratchz



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lost Love, Past Character Death, Sad Ending, Sad and Sweet, Short, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:48:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25579099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MichellesPenScratchz/pseuds/MichellesPenScratchz
Summary: Grey Worm looks out across the sea as the Island of Naath appears in the distance. He has arrived, but is he home?
Relationships: Grey Worm/Missandei
Comments: 7
Kudos: 8





	Carried Home To You

**Author's Note:**

> Written to satisfy a prompt: "On a boat with hugs and kisses."

Day after day, the waves lapped at the side of the boat as it steadily made its way southeast. Grey Worm stood at the bow, hands on the rail to steady himself as the boat swayed back and worth. He thought he could see the faintest sign of tall trees on the horizon, like a single strand of thin green thread woven into a tapestry of blue.

He didn’t even hear Missandei’s footsteps as she approached beside him, but of course the sounds of the Summer Sea churching and the deck creaking were a constant drone. It was easy to miss much.

“It’s strange,” Missandei said in a far-off voice. “In all the languages I have studied, most have a word for ‘home.’ Or, very close to it. Yet, when I set my feet upon Naath once more, I do not know which word will suit it best.”

“The Naathi?” Grey Worm asked. “Do they have no word for ‘home’?”

She lifted her hands from the deck rail to spread them in uncertainty, somehow maintaining her grace and poise on the unsteady deck as she did so. “It has been so long, and I am certain Kraznys mo Nakloz would never have permitted me the use of the word. He would have it that I had forgotten the Isle completely.”

“Forget _him_ , then, and speak no more of him,” Grey Worm insisted. “Think no more of what was—only what is, now.”

“Now?” She smiled at him, with a fleeting glance behind at the deck they stood upon. “Now, we are on a boat. Let us think instead of what soon will be.”

“Soon, then.” He smiled back. “Soon, we will be home on the Butterfly Isle. The Unsullied will guard your people with their last breaths, and no master’s chain will touch your skin ever again.”

“Only your hands, I hope.” Her hand, once more on the deck rail, began to crawl like a caterpillar made of fingers towards his. “Your hands, and your lips,” she murmured.

“Always.” The familiar feel of the billowing wind and the spray of sea water were joined by the delicate touch of her pinky finger arriving to brush his.

“Do you realize what you said?” she asked, leaning in. “You said ‘Soon, _we_ will be home.’”

“If it is where you are,” Grey Worm assured her. “Then it is home to me.”

His eyes closed as she leaned in to kiss him. Her hair whipped in the breeze and tickled his face like the flutter of a dozen butterflies. On her lips, he imagined the citrus taste of the native fruits they would be free to enjoy and share with each other when the arrived on that white beach of her childhood.

When Grey Worm opened his eyes again, the green sliver on the horizon had grown, and now the trees Missandei had spoken of stood tall before him. Below them, the glisten of that white beach.

On his finger, a butterfly flicked its wings once. Twice. Then it drifted away, and he stood there alone.

The boat would soon come to rest on the shores of Naath. The Unsullied would guard Missandei’s people with their last breaths. And no master’s chain would touch her skin ever again.

But she was not on this boat, and she would never again be in his arms. At least, not until the famed butterflies carried him away. To her. To home.


End file.
